


the mona lisa ain't got nothing on us

by galaxy_of_words



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxy_of_words/pseuds/galaxy_of_words
Summary: For your first date with Karkat you go an art museum.





	the mona lisa ain't got nothing on us

**Author's Note:**

> my first time writing Davekat for a gift exchange on tumblr

For your first date with Karkat you go an art museum. Okay maybe it’s kind of weird to call it a first date because you’ve been dating for over two years but to be fair the meteor wasn’t always the most romantic place in the world. Now that you’re on Earth C the least you can do is take your boyfriend out on the town. 

You pick an art museum (a human one not a troll one because troll art kinda creeps you out) because it’s the kind of cheesy date location you think Karkat would probably like. You’ve never been to an art museum but you think you have a decent idea of what they are like. It’s not until you are looking at the first piece in the gallery that you realize you had forgotten one tiny important fact about art. 

Turns out that artists really love their mythology. Also on Earth C you and your friends kind of are that mythology. Step aside Zeus there’s a new pantheon in town. The walls of the museum are covered with art of your and your crew. Large paintings dating back over two hundred years with your faces lovingly rendered in oils fill the galleries. 

The very first painting you see is of Jane’s dad shirtless, lying down on a chaise, surrounded by cakes. You now understand why people get so emotional about art because it’s so beautiful you might just start crying. Fuck the Mona Lisa and the Last Supper and anything else from original flavor Earth this is true art. 

You turn to ask Karkat if he’s also appreciating this beautiful moment but find yourself facing a scowl. 

“No, no, no way, fuck no,” he says gesturing while he speaks like an Old Italian man. 

“Bro,” you say looking at him, “Do you have any idea how much beautifully embarrassing paintings of our friends are in this room?” 

He sighs dramatically and loudly and you are filled with so much affection for this ridiculous troll. 

“Fine I guess we’re doing this. We are going to stay here and roll around in the pungent stench of our own egos like a bunch of hedonistic chucklefucks. We are going to be those fucking insufferable shitweasels who spend an afternoon looking at hundred-year-old paintings of our own faces. Not to mention the faces of all our fucking acquaintances and of course most likely at least one painting of Jake English’s ass.” 

You step forward and drop a kiss on your boyfriend’s forehead as thanks. He looks up at you trying to keep the scowl but you can see a smile trying to creep in. 

“Thanks babe.” 

“Yeah whatever, just go and get your blackmail material asshole,” he says and with that you shoot him a double thumbs up and you’re off. 

You see some pretty fantastic paintings. You snap a picture of a surrealist painting of Kanaya and Rose in a desert surrounded by light bulbs and a dolphin. You glance at what seems to be you in LOHAC but don’t look closer. You check out a giant oil painting of a mostly nude except for hair covering key places Jade surrounded by dogs that dates back to the renaissance. And that’s just the start. There is modern art with you all in street clothes way more fashionable then anything you would ever wear. There is art reimagining you as carapaces and some of you as trolls. There are two wonderful marble statures of John and Jade where you can tell the artist lovingly rendered their abs into the stone getting it surprisingly accurate. 

You take snapchats while you walk through. You send Terezi one of a portrait of herself in a noir detective’s clothing and Dirk one of many of him sitting on a horse looking triumphant. 

You wonder around for a bit checking out the art and snapping pictures before you find Karkat looking very intently at one painting in particular.

“Hey you would not believe the amount of paintings of the mayor they have,” you stay walking over to stand next to your boyfriend. You open your mouth to say something else but close it when you see the painting in front of you. 

The plaque next to it says the title is “A Dinner for Gods” but the figures in it are undoubtedly the two of you. You’re sitting on a modern couch, your faces illuminated by the bluish light of the television. There is takeout on the coffee table in front of you and on your lap as you are sprawled comfortably with your legs on Karkat’s lap. 

What really grabs your eyes though are the faces. The two of you in the painting aren’t watching the TV and instead are looking into each other’s eyes. The you in the painting is not wearing shades and there is just something so soft in your expression as painting you looks at Karkat and he looks back with pure adoration. The only word to describe the whole scene is intimate. Looking at it, seeing it captured on the canvas feels slightly uncomfortable. Like someone reached into your chest pulled out your still beating heart and put it on display so that everyone can see where Karkat Vantas is engraved into the flesh. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a sniffle and immediately turn to see your boyfriend, reddish tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Not quite sure what to do you grab his hand and squeeze it. It seems to be the right choice because he squeezes back. 

“You okay?” You ask giving him a concerned look but he shakes his head and wipes at his eyes with his other hand. He’s not looking at you, his eyes are firmly fixed on the painting. 

“Can you buy the paintings in museums?” He asks his voice barely cracking. 

“I don’t think so bro. I think it’s a whole ‘this belongs to all of society’ thing,” you respond. He nods. You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back. 

“Lets go see what sort of stupid items with Egbert’s face are in the gift shop,” he says and starts to tug you along. 

“Hold up,” you take a quick pick of the plaque with your phone. “Okay let’s go.” 

The two of you spend twenty minutes in the gift shop hand in hand looking at post cards of John and everyone else. You end up buying a magnet for Jade with the dog painting on it and a postcard for Roxy of Calliope in a ball gown. 

When you finally leave still holding hands you have a smile on your face because you have the name of the artist from the painting earlier. 

You’re planning on asking if they do commissions.


End file.
